


Apology

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Soul Eater, Soul Eater Not!
Genre: Apologies, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Flirting, Inline with canon, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 21:46:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1957248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Akane is being mean, and he knows it. He wouldn’t be flirting with Tsugumi if it didn’t get such a rise out of Clay." Akane is a little mean, and then he apologizes in his own idiom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apology

Akane is being mean, and he knows it.

He wouldn’t be flirting with Tsugumi if it didn’t get such a rise out of Clay. She’s a lovely girl, certainly, but he’s not in the market for a different weapon partner, hasn’t been available for such since his first day at the Academy when he and Clay shook hands. Clay  _ought_  to know that, but there are a lot of things Clay should know and doesn’t, or knows and forgets, or doesn’t trust that he knows. So Akane needles him, a bit harder than is entirely kind, and Clay’s reactions are  _far_  more charming than they ought to be, and that pushes him on to further suggestions. He knows it would be kinder of him to stop; Tsugumi looks utterly befuddled by his flirtations, when she notices them at all, and Clay always looks a little bit like Akane has suggested murdering kittens when the meister makes any reference to partnering with the other weapon. At best he’s confusing Tsugumi, at worst he’s making Clay panic, but his weapon should know better, and he looks so  _adorable_  when he’s confused that it is very hard for Akane to convince himself to stop.

Clay’s still shooting him sidelong glances as the three girls leave the briefing room  _en masse_ , looking like he’s about to burst with unvoiced panic. Akane lingers a little longer than he needs to for the amusement of watching Clay squirm, but finally Sid glances at the weapon and raises his eyebrows in a way that clearly says  _don’t be a jerk,_ and Akane huffs a laugh under his breath and says goodnight.

Clay is all but humming with tension as they leave the room; the door hasn’t even shut behind them when the blond steps in close against Akane’s elbow, reaches out to touch the other boy’s sleeve like he’s trying to ground himself. “Akane?” He sounds lost, Akane can hear the whimper of worry under his voice; the meister has to tip his head forward to let his hair fall in front of his face and hide the affection in his smile.

His voice comes level and calm, with no trace of the amusement in his throat. “What it is, Clay?”

“Do you really want to partner with Tsugumi?” Clay’s fingers come up farther, tighten into a hold on Akane’s arm instead of just his elbow. Akane nearly laughs behind the cover of his hair but he doesn’t answer right away and Clay keeps talking. “I mean,  _I’m_  your partner, right? You’re not really going to leave, are you?”

“I’m not sure,” Akane says, as if he’s honestly ever considered the idea for a moment. “She is a nice weapon.”

Clay makes a horrified noise, a little whimper of panic, and Akane’s composure cracks into a burst of laughter. He turns his chin up, tosses his head so his hair falls back from his face and he can glance sideways at the weapon. “I’m teasing you, Clay. Why would I ever want another weapon?”

Clay’s eyes are wide and frightened, fixed on Akane’s face like the meister’s words aren’t enough to soothe the panic in his blood. “Are you sure?”

When Akane stops moving Clay draws to a halt next to him, still staring like he needs more reassurance, and Akane turns in to face him, reaches out to touch the blond’s shoulder.

“I’m  _very_  sure,” he purrs. When he steps in closer Clay doesn’t move away, just tips in unconsciously as if he’s aligning himself to the meister’s motions. “I can show you.”

“What?” Clay says, as if he’s not leaning in so his mouth is in reach of the meister’s. “Show me what --”

Akane’s laughing when he brings his hand sideways against the back of the blond’s neck, pulls Clay in against his lips. The weapon makes a sound of shock -- he really  _didn’t_  see this coming -- but he doesn’t resist the contact, is leaning in and instinctively settling his hands in at Akane’s waist before he recalls where they are. Akane can feel when the awareness hits, the tension suddenly in Clay’s shoulders before the blond starts to pull back and stammer some sort of protest.

“W-wait, Akane, we’re at school, I --”

“There’s no one around,” Akane soothes. Clay is tipping his head up to dodge the meister’s mouth, which leaves his neck accessible for Akane’s lips. He pauses to lick against the blond’s skin, smiles when he can feel the whimper Clay makes under his lips. “Just a minute, Clay, no one will come this way.”

“They  _might_ ,” Clay says, but he’s not pushing Akane away, his fingers are in fact curling into a hold at the meister’s jacket in response to the other boy’s movements, and when Akane steps in closer and presses in against him the blond huffs a gasp of reaction before he can speak. “We ran into Death Weapon Law the other day, remember, Akane, we could -- we might get  _caught_.”

“Do you want me to stop?” Akane asks, curling his fingers around Clay’s loosened tie so he can tug it down another half-inch and breathe over the skin thus exposed.

The hesitation before Clay answers is enough of an answer even before he takes a breath and says, somewhat desperately, “We  _should_.”

“Fine.” Akane pulls back, steps backward and away from Clay; for a moment the weapon stays where he is, looking somewhat glazed and breathless, before his eyes start to refocus into instinctive protest.

“Wait, Akane, but --” He reaches out for the meister, as if to pull him back in spite of the dilemma writ clear across his features, and Akane catches his hand, laces their fingers together and turns down the hall so he can pull the weapon in his wake.

“You’re worried about getting caught,” Akane says, clear like he’s laying out the evidence for an argument. “Right?”

“Yeah?” Clay’s voice swings up into a question; he’s had enough experience to know when Akane is leading him to a particular conclusion, if not enough intuition to get to the end before the meister brings him there.

Akane tosses his head, glances back at the blond. “You don’t have any  _inherent_  issue with me sucking you off, though, right?”

Clay’s eyes go wide, he glances around as if there’s someone to hear them. “ _Akane_.”

“If so you should say something now,” Akane goes on over Clay’s scandalized tone. “I’ve been acting under the assumption that you don’t mind. I can stop if I’ve been wrong.”

“What?” Clay sounds lost, flustered and perplexed, like Akane’s spinning him in mental circles and he’s starting to get dizzy. “N-no, I don’t want you to stop, but --”

“It’s fine.” Akane comes to a stop, so quickly Clay stumbles forward too far and bumps into his shoulder while he closes his hand on a door handle and pulls sharply. If he’s remembered correctly -- yes, good, he has. “Here.”

Clay is still staring at him with his brows drawn together in helpless confusion; he’s turning as soon as Akane gets the door open, stepping forward before he’s really gotten a look at the space. Akane doesn’t wait for realization to kick in; he shoves gently at Clay’s shoulders to urge him inside and follows him fast so he’s shutting the door on the hall’s light before Clay has realized what’s happening.

“ _Akane_.” Clay reaches out in the dark, flailing for the meister; Akane can’t see any better than the weapon can, but he’s expecting this reaction, gets an arm up to grab at the other boy’s wrist and hold him steady. “Is this a  _storage closet_?”

“You didn’t want to get caught.” Akane lets his hold go gentle, turns his touch into a stroke against Clay’s wrist as he drops to his knees. “If you’re quiet no one will find us.”

“We  _can’t_  do this,” Clay protests, but his words stutter when Akane trails his fingers across the front of the weapon’s uniform slacks to find out his fly. “ _Ah_. Akane, this is  _so_  cliche, you can’t  _really_  be serious.”

“I am absolutely serious,” Akane purrs in a mock whisper. “Stop arguing and stay  _quiet_.”

“We  _can’t_.”

“Why not?” Akane’s got Clay’s pants open, and in spite of his words Clay isn’t moving to stop him; the weapon’s fingers are fluttering against Akane’s hair like he’s orienting himself on the meister, his breathing is coming too fast, and he’s entirely hard when Akane brushes his fingers experimentally over the other boy’s boxers. “We can at least  _try_.”

“This is crazy,” Clay whimpers, but his hand stays on Akane’s hair when the other boy curls his fingers inside the weapon’s boxers and starts to tug them down and out of the way. “You can’t really --”

Akane rolls his eyes in the dark, leans in as the best way to prove his point. Clay’s babbled disbelief cuts off sharply as Akane’s mouth brushes against him, starts to veer into a groan before he recollects where he is and shuts his mouth so the sound goes muffled and somewhat softer. Akane pulls back, feels out Clay’s length in the dark so he can wrap his fingers around the base of the other boy’s cock.

“I can,” he says, tipping his head up even though he can’t make out Clay’s features in the dark. “ _Really_.”

“Oh my god,” Clay says, and his fingers against Akane’s hair settle into a hold even before the meister comes back in to take him back into his mouth.

It’s novel to do this in the dark. Akane keeps looking up to Clay’s face, forgetting he can’t make out any of the other’s features, and he can’t see what he’s doing, so when he moves his mouth it’s more of an exploration than deliberate motion. But he can hear Clay’s breathing coming louder over his head, the shocked gasps when the meister moves his tongue, and when Akane closes his lips against the weapon and sucks Clay groans “ _Akane_ ” so loud he has to pull back.

“Quiet,” he laughs. “I don’t mind if we get caught but you do.”

“Jesus christ,” Clay gasps, sounding shaky and breathless. “I can’t tell what you’re going to do in the dark, Akane, it’s  _startling_.”

“You seem to be liking it.” He rocks back on his heels, reaches down for the front of his own slacks with his free hand to work his belt free and work on the button. The metal clicks on itself and Clay’s fingers go still against his hair.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m getting my pants open,” Akane says honestly as he gets the fabric pushed aside.

“Wh--”

“So I can jerk off while I have your cock in my mouth,” Akane answers instantly. “Unless you mind.”

Clay makes a sound that would be a whine if it didn’t drop low and shaking in his throat. Akane can feel the other boy twitch in his hold, grins in the dark as he closes his fingers around himself and starts to stroke.

“Quiet,” he reminds, and then he comes back up on his knees and takes Clay back into his mouth. The weapon must be really making an effort; this time there’s just a faint hiss of air, only barely audible, and although his fingers go clenching and tight against Akane’s hair his breathing is only fast, not loud, as the meister starts to slide his mouth over the other boy’s length with a deliberate rhythm. It’s harder to tell what he’s doing but the pattern is easier to find without the distraction of vision; Akane doesn’t have to think about it to bring his mouth and hand into sync, until he’s stroking over himself in time with the movement of his head over Clay’s length. But the blond has a bit of a headstart, and Akane dedicated himself to perfecting his technique until he can bring Clay to incoherency as rapidly as he chooses to, so he’s not particularly surprised when he starts to feel the other boy’s legs shaking and the hold against his hair drawing tighter. He draws in a breath through his nose, picks up his pace slightly, and tries to say Clay’s name without pulling away so the sound vibrates into a hum against the other boy.

There’s a choked inhale, a wailed  _“Akane_ ” before there’s the sound of the blond clapping a hand over his mouth. Akane laughs without moving away and that gets him another muffled whimper, a desperate tug at his hair; when he slides his tongue up over Clay’s length the weapon shudders against him, groans past his hand, and comes over Akane’s tongue. Akane doesn’t pull back until Clay shivers with too-much sensation and pulls back on his hair to urge him, and by then he’s starting to tremble himself.

“God, Akane,” Clay gasps. Akane tucks his forehead in against the other boy’s hip instead of answering, and the weapon’s hand slides down against his hair to brush against the meister’s shoulder. “Are you --”

“I’m not going to leave you,” Akane blurts, rushing over the words so they’ll fit between his inhales, and Clay’s hand stills against his neck. “I’m not, I never even considered it.” He laughs weakly, pushes in harder against the weapon’s leg. “I don’t know how you could think I was serious but I wasn’t, I --” A shudder catches him mid-sentence, stops his throat while he reaches out to grab at Clay’s hip to steady himself. “I  _love_  you, I’m not -- going to leave.” He starts to laugh, sounding faintly hysterical and mostly breathless. “I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you,” he manages, and then he’s groaning against Clay, his hand clutching into desperation while his body flushes hot with pleasure.

Clay’s stroking his hair when Akane recovers enough to let his hold on the other boy’s hip go, the touch gentle and soothing as Akane lets the shivering tension of orgasm slide into languid satisfaction.

“I love you,” he says again, letting himself go so he can wipe his hand on his undershirt as a short-term solution. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

Clay laughs weakly, touches the side of Akane’s face. “It’s okay. I love you too.” He’s still breathing hard when Akane gets to his feet and leans in to find the other boy’s mouth, but there’s a smile there the meister can feel even if he can’t see it, and he knows he’s forgiven.


End file.
